Home Is Where the Heart Is
by RitaMordio19
Summary: A hypothetical ending of the Throne of Glass series, exploring Manon, Dorian, Celaena, and Chaol's futures after the end of the war. Consistent with canon, some major EoS spoilers. Manorian and Chaolaena. One-shot.


******Home Is Where the Heart Is**

* * *

"I'll never forget you, Aelin Galathynius." Aelin looked up into the eyes of the Fae male staring firmly back at her, rare tears shining in reply. She brought her lips to his, tasting him one last time, before backing up, letting their fingers linger on each other's for a few, final seconds before walking backwards towards the seal they had created, the seal that was binding Erawan until she could send the evil back to its own dimension.

"Goodbye, Rowan. I love you." Tears fell down her face, and she held his gaze strongly, before finally turning her head to nod a goodbye to the rest of her friends. Her doppelganger barely managed to keep standing, tears draining down her face as Aedion supported her against his shoulder, his own expression torn. Dorian's own face was stricken with pain, while Manon stood at his side, his pillar, as she merely nodded back with the highest of respects for Aelin for fulfilling her duty.

The seal pulsed with Erawan's energy, and she turned to her task at hand, ready to ensure he never broke free into their world again. She steadied herself, then placed her hands against the seal, channeling her power into it, sending the demon home. Her body rose with flames, growing gradually into a white-hot flame. Her clothes started to catch on fire, but she kept pushing her power out hotter and hotter, allowing it to burn her to her core. She turned back to the group for one, final smile, before refocusing her attention on the seal, funneling the last of her power into it. She felt nothing as the explosion wiped out the spot she was on, and, when the smoke cleared, nothing remained in front of the group, and Rowan dropped to his knees, sobbing.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was no more.

* * *

~~ Six Years Later ~~

Dorian smiled at his very-pregnant wife, as she walked in the front door of their cottage. Manon matched his gaze, and he could've sworn the smallest of smirks struck her normally-stoic face.

"The soil is fertile, Dorian." Her voice came out quiet, and he stood up to meet her. "We have our home back." Even through her strong, unwavering countenance, he could see the flicker of hope shine in her eyes. The Bluebloods, Crochans, and about half of the Blackbeaks had joined forces under Manon's leadership against the Yellowlegs and the other half of the Blackbeaks, led by her grandmother, bringing an end to the war between the witches with their victory.

"Told you that you could do it." He winked at her, and she scoffed, moving to sit down on the couch behind him.

"I told myself I could do it. You just sat by and watched me." She flashed a taunt with her eyebrows, and he smiled back as he moved to join her, though he was interrupted by the front door opening behind him. He frowned, seeing his three-year-old son standing in front of two Adarlan guards, both of whom were making pains to avoid eye contact with Manon.

"Mama, Aunt Asterin brought them here; she told me to take them by the house right 'way."

"Chaol, go play outside. We'll take care of this." Manon's voice was stern, as Dorian had immediately tensed up himself. Their son nodded.

"'Kay, Mama."

Dorian watched his son, through the open doorway, run all the way back to the other Ironteeths before letting himself focus his gaze back to the guards. His son was Chaol Westfall Havilliard, named after the greatest soldier in Dorian's army. Manon and he had agreed to name any sons with his last name and any daughters with hers, in order to preserve both lines. If they were here for him...he scowled as he finally addressed the two soldiers.

"Can I help you gentlemen?" The two soldiers stood in the doorway, still clearly uncomfortable in Manon's presence. Dorian narrowed his eyes to slits. "Is something wrong?" Their backs immediately straightened, and one quickly replied.

"No, of course not, your Excellency." He sighed at the moniker; it had been years since he had handed over power of the Kingdom of Adarlan, and yet he was still referred to in honorifics. The soldier continued, voice shaking. "It's just that...well, Hollin's 18th birthday is coming up in six months, and, at that time, he will have the right to re-assert the Havilliard claim to the throne."

"Yes, this is how we planned it. What is the problem?" Dorian's tone was undertoned with a strong annoyance; he could feel the same irritation radiating from his mate.

"Well, sir, we...we were hoping we could convince you to take the throne yourself instead. We're still not sure Hollin is ready, and..." The male's eyes flashed to Manon's by habit, then rapidly shot back to Dorian's. "...your time could be better spent in Adarlan than the Wastes, to be quite frank." The harsh, loud growl that erupted from Dorian's mouth caused both men to step back.

"First of all, these are the Witchlands, not the Wastes. Secondly, my family is here, and it would be unthinkable to ask my _pregnant_ _Queen_ to leave her home to attend to a mortal castle that has more than enough politicians to handle the job, when her own lands need her so much. Finally, as I made very clear to you years ago when I moved out here, I have no wish to create a conflict of interest between the Adarlan government and the Witchlands. If you do not feel Hollin is up to the job, then you have failed at the task I assigned you _four years ago_ to make him more humble and understanding of his responsibilities." He breathed, both of the soldiers looking between each other in uncertain panic. He felt the pride of his wife behind him, and he smiled darkly. "I would certainly hope this is not the only reason you have come."

"N-no, your Excell – sir." The other soldier cut off at his glare, swallowing to compose himself. "We also brought you something that you requested of us." Dorian's eyes widened, and it was then that he noticed the long package on the back of one of the soldiers, one the other soldier was quickly detaching. He closed the distance between them quickly, taking it from the man. "There was a skirmish on the Southern part of the continent that had previously gone unnoticed. We found this among the fallen soldiers. We cleaned it and brought it straight here."

Dorian unwrapped the velvet exterior, and his eyes began to water up as he beheld what was inside. "You two may leave." Their eyes darted to each other.

"Sir–"

" _Now._ " They quickly bowed and shuffled off in the direction they had come from, likely to be taken back to Adarlan on Asterin's wyvern. Manon appeared next to him, her eyes widening at the weapon in his hands.

Chaol's sword.

Manon's hand brushed against his back, and her touch finally broke his resolve, the tears falling freely down onto the blade in his hands. He heard her speak softly, beside him.

"We'll put it up next to yours upstairs." He nodded, as he let her re-wrap the sword safely in its velvet wrappings, then pulled him in closely, kicking the door behind her, letting him cry into her shoulder. "We'll find a way to honor his memory, Dorian. You know we will." He separated himself from her, looking into her eyes. She had given him an idea.

"Can you take this upstairs for me? I'll be right back." Manon nodded back in surprise, and he opened the front door, running for his life in the direction of the wyverns.

* * *

"Here we go, this is the place." A woman snuck in the window of a small cottage, unlocking the front door for the gruff-looking man accompanying her, who laughed roughly in response.

"You said that three years ago."

"Yes, well...I didn't quite expect to see an Adarlan Lord in a desert village, now did I?" She moved over to pile wood in the fireplace as he closed the door behind him, re-locking it. "I happen to know that this cabin has been abandoned for decades; we won't be bothered here." She lit the wood with a packet of matches that had been abandoned on the fireplace sill, relishing the warmth against her hands in the nighttime cold. She felt the man's hands close around her waist as he sat down behind her, and she smiled.

"Has it been long enough now to ask how things went on your end?" She relaxed into him as he spoke, her eyes distant in memory, staring blankly into the fire.

"...I guess it should be talked about, eventually." She breathed calmly, closing her eyes. "But you first."

"That doesn't seem fair."

"I'm never fair." She felt him smile against the top of her head.

"Alright then." He paused, letting them bask in the fire in peace for a moment, then continued. "I was never able to get to that point with her, but I tried my best to be a good companion for her. To help get her through the war. To support her, knowing I would be saying my last goodbyes when I went into that battle. Knowing she couldn't have the same knowledge in return." She felt him swallow against her. "I hope she's found peace."

She breathed in deep breaths, trying to soothe him alongside her. "I've tried to check, but it's hard getting information on the Southern region of the continent." She turned her side against him, nuzzling against him. "If it makes you feel better, though, I heard a statue of you is being erected in Adarlan. I'll be able to check further into her then."

"Oh good, just what I needed." She couldn't help herself but laugh at his sarcastic tone and almost stopped herself, but she decided it was good to laugh anyway. They couldn't mourn their friends' pain forever, and she knew they would be working towards the same serenity themselves, in their absence. Things could never be the same, not with the required separation, but they could be made manageable. There could be a new normal. She heard his voice break in again, softer in tone. "Your turn. And no getting out of it this time."

"Fine, fine." She smiled into his chest. "We had a nice few months together, but he always knew it was borrowed time, anyway. Obviously..." She sucked in her breath. "Obviously, it wasn't easy for him; he was devastated for a long time, unable to show it in public. The forest fairies tried to help soothe him for me, and I hope by now...that he's doing better. It's too risky to check in on him that often, but...the last time I checked, he was managing, and the country is rebuilding nicely."

A long time passed in silence between them, before his voice broke it again. "I'm glad." She smiled.

"Thank you." She looked up into his eyes. "I know it's hard, but it was necessary for me." She hesitated, then continued. "You didn't have to, though. You still don't." He shook his head.

"'I would be the greatest fool in the world to let you go alone,' remember?" She smiled, nuzzling her head into his neck.

"Even if we have to keep running for the rest of our lives, jumping from place to place to avoid recognition, never having a real home?" She pulled back, sitting up on her knees in his lap, staring back into his eyes, seriousness lining hers. "Are you really okay with that?"

He smiled back at her and kissed her, the warmth of it calming every nerve in her body, soothing every ache in her soul, then spoke between kisses.

"My home is wherever you are, Celaena."

A single tear escaped her eye as the light from the fire shone across Chaol's face, and she kissed him back, letting herself enjoy the rest of her now-mortal life with her human mate.

* * *

A/N: As with my other work, I wanted to explore ways that the Chaolaena ship could still exist, concurrent with the canon, despite the likelihood of a Rowaelin ending in the actual series. In this work, I considered her "death" to be the loss of her immortality and Fae half, meaning she would spend the rest of her days in her human form, living a normal lifespan with Chaol. However, due to Lysandra still needing to take on her role as Aelin, as Terrasen would need an immortal leader, she could not ever be known to be alive. Chaol had the option to choose between faking his death to be with Celaena or getting to live his life normally otherwise, and chose his obvious choice.

As for how Celaena escaped from the room after losing her immortality, well she is an assassin, after all ;). I hope you all enjoyed!

P.S. I'm okay with however Sarah J. Maas finishes the series. She has the complete prerogative as the author to determine the fates of her relationships. So, although I will be saddened for Chaol if Rowaelin is endgame (which it likely is), I will still be satisfied with the series. I feel that's important to point out, considering a lot of tensions between fans of the series with competing ships.


End file.
